


We're All Gonna Die! :)

by kishleylam



Category: Random Encounters: Resident Enis (Web Series), mark fischbach - Fandom, markiplier - Fandom, youtube - Fandom
Genre: Apocalypse, Dodger is a meme, Dodger ships it, Don't question it, Enis is a pure cinnamon roll, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, I'm not sure if I'll actually post recordings on SoundCloud or just include the lyrics, Kissing, Lots of monsters, Lots of violence ahead, Mark is a BA, Mark used to be a Youtuber, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Profanity, Rating May Change, The emotions vary a lot here, There will be songs, Trash ships, You used to be an engineer, actual plot???, everyone else is a sin-namon roll, kazoos, now he's just salty™, oh yeah, probably no smut, puns, reader has no assigned gender, relationships subject to change, so are these tags, that stands for Bad Attitude, this started as a joke but now it's serious, trash, who has time for romance?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-08
Updated: 2017-03-16
Packaged: 2018-10-01 03:32:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10179698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kishleylam/pseuds/kishleylam
Summary: Surviving in Monster Gulch is hard enough alone. Add in a grumpy former Youtuber, a weirdly sassy redhead, and a probably gay vampire, and you're surely not long for this world.Can you all find your way out of this hellscape before you're killed? Is Mark always this infuriatingly attractive? Where the hell does Enis keep getting kazoos? Find out in "We're All Gonna Die! :)"





	1. Nice to Meet—OMFG IS THAT A GUN

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! I just thought I'd give you a heads-up: I'm writing this partially to help myself cope with the very recent loss of a loved one, and because of my sense of humor and my coping methods, there will probably be some pretty dark humor and jokes about death in the future. If those sorts of things bother you, know that I will tag them as "dark humor" in the chapter notes. 
> 
> POTENTIAL TRIGGERS FOR THIS CHAPTER:  
> Mentions of suicide (no one you actually get to know, though)  
> Somewhat graphic depictions of violence

Mark’s POV  
“It's gonna be dark soon,” Mark noted, trekking through the thick woods. “We need to find shelter ASAP or we’re screwed.”  
“Awesome.” Dodger rolled her eyes and sidestepped a lone bear trap. “The only problem with that plan is that we’re in the middle of a freaking forest. Where are we gonna find shelter out here?”  
“Don’t worry, guys. I’m sure we’ll find--” Enis jumped a bit when Dodger guided him out of the way of the trap. “--something.”  
“What do you think, there’s gonna be a house in the middle of the freakin’ woods?” Dodger raised an eyebrow in Mark’s direction, releasing her grip on Enis.  
Mark sighed. “I’m not saying that. I’m just saying we have to find somewhere that’ll work as a temporary shelter soon.”  
“Hey, if nothing else, we can always just climb a tree and stay up there for the night, right?” Enis said cheerfully. Mark and Dodger both turned and stared at him incredulously. Suddenly, his grin spread even wider. “Or we could just stay there!” The others looked where he was pointing. A few hundred feet away, visible through the thick underbrush, was a small log cabin.  
“Well. What are the odds?” Mark said, wariness creeping into his voice.  
“Slim. We’ll have to be careful--that bear trap could’ve been set by whoever lives in there.” Dodger held her baseball bat tightly.  
“Aw, come on, guys.” Enis started bounding towards the house. “I’m sure it’s empty.”  
Dodger grabbed him by the back of his suspenders. “Are you stupid?” she hissed. “You can’t just go prancing in there. You’re going to get yourself killed.”  
“Alright.” Mark sighed, adjusting his grip on his machete. “I’m going to go in and check the place out. Dodger, could you babysit Enis for a minute?”  
She smirked. “Sure thing.”  
“Hey!” Enis protested.  
“And if I’m not back in five minutes--”  
Dodger nodded. “Leave without you. Got it.”  
Mark just stared at her for a moment. “...I was gonna say come in after me.”  
She shrugged. “Same difference.”  
“Okay. Well. I’m gonna go inside, so I guess I’ll see you in a few if you don’t abandon me.” He gave her a faint smile before heading towards the small log cabin. The sound of leaves crunching beneath his feet set him on edge--if there was someone inside the cabin, his loud footfalls would tip them off before he was inside. He shifted his fingers, feeling the way they perfectly fit into the mold the leather handle of his machete had formed after lots of use. The door was already slightly cracked open, and he pushed it open with a high-pitched creak. He grimaced and held his machete at the ready.  
The first thing he noticed upon entering the room was the stench--it reeked like rotting meat and feces. If he’d had something in his stomach, he probably would’ve thrown it up. With the hand that wasn’t clutching his machete like a lifeline, he pulled his shirt up over his nose and mouth. Not that he smelled much better, to be completely honest. Looking around the room, he was quickly able to place the source of the odor. Sitting in a decrepit armchair in the corner of the room was a long-dead corpse. Its head was leaning back so that Mark could see the underneath of his chin from the front door. Its jaw looked like it was barely attached to its head, and there was what must have at one point been a relatively small hole just above the place where its head met its neck, and the back of its skull was completely blown out. Its skin had all but rotted away, and there were just a few bits and pieces of leathery flesh clinging to the yellowing bone. Flies swarmed it and a few even flew into the skull through the now-empty eye sockets.  
Between the appearance of the corpse and the dusty, partially broken bottles littering the floor around it, it wasn’t too hard to piece together what had happened.  
“Poor bastard.” He took a few hesitant steps toward it, looking around to see if the weapon responsible for this was still clutched in its hand. He sighed after a minute of fruitless searching. “Looks like someone already got your gun.”  
Mark forced himself to peel his eyes away. Sure, he’d seen enough things that this didn’t faze him too badly, but it still didn’t feel right to stare. On the bright side, at least now he knew there wasn’t anyone here. No one would stay in a place like this without throwing the corpse out first--the thing reeked.  
He stepped back outside into the fresh air. Well, the less putrid air, anyway. Dropping his shirt from over his face, he took a few hungry gulps of air before he called out to his friends.  
“I think it’s clear, in a manner of speaking. I’m just gonna sweep the other rooms real quick to be sure.”  
He heard Enis call back to him from wherever they were currently hiding, “Sure thing, Markimoo!”  
Mark rolled his eyes, not bothering to dignify him with a response. He had told him countless times not to call him that. Pulling his shirt back over his face, he stepped back into the house, the fumes nearly knocking him over. His machete hung a little lower this time; he wasn’t particularly concerned about raiders being in the house. They would have come out by now.  
However, as he entered the kitchen, a chill crept up his spine.  
“Shit...”  
Laying on the floor were a few men in heavy armor, their heads smashed in as though with a baseball hat. And, worst of all, they looked recently deceased. He knelt to touch the pool of blood, and his fears were confirmed; the blood was still slightly warm.  
He heard a clicking sound behind him.  
“Don’t move.”  
Your POV  
You stepped over the corpses of the men you’d killed a few hours earlier. You felt an involuntary twinge of guilt in the pit of your stomach--you’d killed plenty of monsters in your time, sure, and you’d seen plenty of dead and dying people, but this was the first time you’d ever had to actually kill another human. Not that you’d had much choice.  
You’d stumbled into this house the night before and barely checked to make sure it was abandoned before passing out. You started scavenging the place upon waking up, but as you did so these two raiders walked into the house. You’d been lucky. They hadn’t known you were there, so you’d been able to surprise them, and the first guy you took down was the only one with a gun. He went down pretty easily. It’s amazing what a blow to the temples with a tapered metal pipe can do to a person. The second guy...he hadn’t been so easy. At the memory of your fight with him, the pain in your side became even more noticeable where he had cut you in his struggle.  
The wound was alright, for the moment, even if it hurt like hell. It was currently closed up with some duct tape. Obviously, that wouldn’t be a good long-term solution. You had to find some alcohol or disinfectant and something to stitch it up with soon, or infection would take you. You grimaced. Honestly, if it came down to dying from an infected wound or being mauled by a monster, you weren’t sure what you’d prefer. You shook your head. There was no need to think about that sort of thing right now. What you needed to focus on was scouring this place for medical supplies. Sure, you’d already swept the place multiple times, but maybe there was something you’d missed…  
Suddenly, you heard the snapping of twigs outside. You instantly felt your pulse quicken. You desperately tried to rationalize the situation. It could be nothing. Just one of the few animals still left alive. Even as you thought that, your stomach turned at the more likely scenario--there was a monster outside, or worse: more survivors. You held your breath to better hear the crunching and cracking sounds growing ever closer to the house.  
You backed into the pantry adjacent to the kitchen and pulled the door so that there was just enough of a crack for you to see through. After a few moments, you heard the terrifying screech of the front door opening. Your heart went into double time, but you fought to keep your breathing steady and even. If this was a raider, and they heard you breathing in here…well, you’d gotten lucky the first time. You doubted you’d be so lucky again.  
After a few painful minutes, you heard the steps return outside. You could hear a few muffled voices. So they’re not alone.  
The footsteps returned, this time coming into the kitchen. Through your crack, you could make out someone--a man--walking into the kitchen. He wore a green shirt that was so tattered you could see his once-white undershirt. His hair was dark and his skin was filthy (whose wasn’t?), and he held a machete loosely in his right hand. He stopped when he saw the bodies on the floor, kneeling beside them and reaching towards them. You felt nauseous. Was this guy a cannibal?  
Stepping out of your hiding place, you pointed the gun you’d taken from one of the raiders at the back of his head and clicked a bullet into the chamber.  
“Don’t move,” you said, hoping you sounded stronger than you felt.  
He stiffened instantly.  
“Drop the machete.” You waited for a moment, but he didn’t. Steeling yourself, you nudged the back of his head with the nose of the gun. “Maybe you didn’t hear me. I said, drop the machete.”  
The machete clattered to the ground. So, that’s good. Now you realized you had no idea what to do next. You honestly hadn’t thought you’d make it this far. You decided that maybe you should ask a question you already knew the answer to. See what he said.  
“Are you alone?”  
“I…” He trailed off. It was kind of a loaded question, and you knew it. If he had been alone, telling you that would have let you know he didn’t have backup. Telling you he wasn’t alone would potentially screw over whoever he was travelling with and lose them the element of surprise. After a moment’s thought, he cleared his throat. “Yes.”  
“You’re not a very good liar.” You pressed the nose of your gun against his head. “How many of you are there?”  
“I just told you--”  
“Yeah, I heard what you said. But I already heard you talking to someone else.”  
He turned his head ever-so-slightly in your direction, trying to get a look at you. “Then why did you bother asking?”  
“I…” You didn’t know how to answer that. Well, it had seemed like a good idea to see how much information he would volunteer, but…honestly, you just hadn’t known what else to ask him. You decided to ignore his problem, instead shoving him slightly with the nose of your gun. “Don’t try to turn around.”  
There was a moment of quiet as both of you seemed at a loss of how to handle this situation.  
He spoke up. “Are you alone?”  
“Shut up,” you growled.  
He was quiet for another moment. “You don’t want to kill me, do you?”  
“The hell gave you that idea?”  
“You haven’t shot me yet, and you’ve hardly said anything. And you haven’t called in anyone else yet, so I’m guessing the answer to my first question is a yes.”  
You chewed the inside of your cheek. “I don’t need backup to blow your brains out, smart guy.”  
“You just need a killer’s instinct. And it doesn’t seem like you have that, do you?”  
You gestured towards the corpses on the ground in front of him, then remembered that he couldn’t see you. “Who do you think killed those raiders?”  
“They were going to kill you if you didn’t, weren’t they?”  
You didn’t answer. Shit, how did this guy read you so well? He couldn’t even see your facial expressions.  
“You know…” he began slowly. “There are just three of us right now, and there’s some safety in numbers…”  
You almost snorted. Was he really asking what you thought he was?  
He continued, “If you want to put the gun down, maybe you could...come with us.”  
You inhaled sharply. “And how do I know that the second I put my gun down, you aren’t going to butcher me with that machete?”  
“Do you really think I’m going to kill you?” You could almost hear a smirk in his voice.  
You didn’t. But then, you’d been fooled before. Your hand trembled slightly with how badly you wanted to believe him. You were used to travelling with a group. God knew you couldn’t last much longer alone. And maybe they would have something for your side…  
If he was telling the truth, you were about to end your loneliness, for a while at least. If he was lying, you were about to be dead. So it was really a win-win scenario.  
“I’m an idiot,” you said, dropping your arm. You heard him exhale with relief. Your heart skipped a beat when you saw him pick up his machete, but he didn’t attack you. Instead, he got off his knees and turned to face you, finally giving you a good look at his face. He had somewhat thin eyebrows, bushy black hair, and a slight beard. He was kind of roguishly handsome, to be completely honest. He gave you a small smile.  
“Thanks for, ah, not shooting me.” His smile became slightly more sincere. “I’m Mark.”  
“(Y/N).” You held out your hand for him to shake for a moment before quickly dropping it back to your side. “Uh, sorry. Old habits die hard, I guess.”  
He chuckled. “I understand. Now, we should probably get back outside so my friends know I’m not dead. If I’m not out soon, they’re either going to come in after me or ditch me.”  
You gave him a weird look. “Those are pretty different actions.”  
“Don’t ask. Come on, (Y/N).”  
You turned the safety of your gun back on and tucked it into your belt before you followed him out of the house, grabbing your lucky pipe (metal, not nicotine) on your way out. You were sure to stay a few steps behind him in case one of his friends had a gun and got jumpy when they saw you. Stepping into the twilight, you suddenly appreciated the “fresh” air outside of the house; you’d gotten pretty used to the foul smell inside.  
“Guys?” Mark called out. “The house is clear. Except, you know. We just gained a new party member.”  
“Did you say party?” a whiny voice said from in the trees. A man with thin dirty blond hair and pale skin that almost seemed to sparkle stepped out along with a redheaded woman.  
“Jesus, Mark. Can’t we go anywhere without picking up another stray?” the woman asked, teasing evident in her voice.  
“Just think of it this way,” Mark said, “Now there’s one more babysitter for Enis.”  
“Hey!” the sparkly guy--Enis--protested.  
“Fair enough.” The woman walked up to meet you and Mark. She wore a casual smile, but you noticed the grip she held on her baseball bat. “You got a name?”  
“(Y/N),” you responded. You clutched your own weapon a bit tighter as well. “And you are?”  
“Dodger,” she said. “And this is Enis. He’s a--”  
“Devilishly handsome sparkly vampire!” Enis interjected, flashing a wide grin that showed off his long, sharp canines.  
“I think she was gonna say ‘nuisance,’” Mark mumbled beside you. You snorted a bit.  
“What was that, Mark?” Enis asked innocently.  
Mark sighed. “Nothing. Anyway, we should probably get indoors. Other than (Y/N), this place was empty when I checked it out.”  
You thought of the three bodies inside the house. “Well…”  
“Oh, right,” Mark said. “There are a few corpses in there, too. The place reeks.”  
“Have the corpses been there long?” Enis asked, his typical pep seeming morbid given the subject matter.  
“Enis, you can’t eat them,” Dodger said, exasperated.  
“Of course not!” Enis looked almost hurt. “I’m vegan!” He seemed to consider something for a moment.  
“You’re not ripping the faces off of those corpses.” Mark wags a finger at him.  
“What?” You wondered if what they’re saying was actually confusing or if you were just stupid.  
“Don’t ask,” both Dodger and Mark said at the same time. Not exactly comforting. Enis mouthed I’ll explain later to you, but you weren’t sure if you wanted him to.  
“On a scale from one to Enis,” Dodger said to Mark, walking towards the cabin, “how bad does this place smell?”  
“Worse than Enis,” he responds. Enis lets out an indignant sound and runs after them. You follow slightly behind him, not really trusting any of them enough to let them out of your sight yet.  
Dodger laughs. “No way!”  
“Just you wait.” Mark opens the door of the cabin and gestures for her to enter. “Ladies first.”  
“Holy shit.” She covers her nose and mouth with her hand. “You weren’t kidding about the smell. Uh, Enis! You can go in first.”  
“But it smells horrible!”  
“Wow, you and the house have so much in common!” She gestures with her bat. “Just go inside.”  
Enis obeyed, but very reluctantly. He grumbled, “Mark smells worse than I do…”  
“I do not!” Mark said indignantly. “You smell like an anus, Enis.”  
“And you smell like B.O.” Dodger walked in next.  
Mark blushed slightly. “I thought we’d agreed to only pick on Enis.”  
“Nope!”  
You waited for Mark to go inside, but he kept holding the door. After a moment, he nodded his head towards the inside. “After you.”  
“Thank you,” you muttered before walking back inside. If you’d eaten anything in the last few days, you probably would’ve thrown up from the smell. Even though you’d just been in here, your memory didn’t quite capture the noxious odor of death in the air. You sat down on the floor across from the long-dead suicide victim, staring into the hollow eyes and wondering what the last thing they saw was. As you do, Mark and Dodger wander off into the kitchen, and Enis sits beside you.  
He cleared his throat. “So, you’re probably wondering what my vegan diet entails…”


	2. Update schedule (or lack thereof)

So, I have never done very well at sticking with update schedules. SO. I will do my best, but like I said, I'm dealing with a lot of personal issues right now, so patience, please!  
I'm going to try to update at least once a week, probably on Wednesdays. If I update more than once from time to time, my second update will be on Saturdays.   
I appreciate y'all bearing with me. I have a lot on my plate.  
I love you all, so take care of yourself!


	3. Mark Needs Higher Standards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> THERE'S A SONG IN THIS ONE???

Mark’s POV  
Dodger leaned against the rotting counter in the kitchen, looking at the corpses on the ground.  
“So,” she said. “Your new friend do this?” She nudged the arm of one of the corpses with her foot.  
Mark paused for a moment before answering. “Yeah.”  
She gave him a long, hard look. “And you just invited them into our group?”  
“They did it in self-defense,” he said lamely.  
She sighed, dragging her foot on a bit of dry tile to get some of the blood off the sole of her shoe. “I never imagined you to be the naive one of this group, Mark.”  
“What the hell do you mean by that?” He crossed his arms. “Are you saying you don’t believe them?”  
“I’m not saying that, necessarily.” She leaned her head back, staring at the moldy ceiling. “But what do you even know about them?”  
“Well, they didn’t shoot me in the back of the head when given the chance, for starters,” he said dryly.  
“That’s always a plus, I guess.” She raised an eyebrow at him. “...Anything else?”  
He shrugged noncommittally.  
Dodger leaned in towards him, singing in a low tone. “They could be a serial killer.”  
Mark scoffed, singing in a low baritone, “Somehow, I really doubt it.”  
“They could secretly be a werewolf--” she sang insistently.  
“Jesus, Dodger, holy shit!” He walked away from her. “Why are you so committed to thinking they’re full of rot?”  
“Why do you only want to believe--” Her eyes widened. “oh, wait, is it ‘cause they’re hot?”  
He stopped singing for a moment. “WHAT THE HELL NO--”  
She grinned, also speaking. “I ship it.”  
Mark shook his head. “You really need to stop.” He peeked through the open doorframe to where you and Enis were sitting, continuing his singing. “I can’t believe that they would spare my life if they planned to end it.”  
Dodger pulled him away from the door, singing in a hushed tone. “They could be waiting for the right time to rob us and throw us in a pit. Look, I say we ditch them. Leave while they are sleeping, grab our stuff and hit the road.”  
Suddenly, Mark snapped. There was no music in his voice anymore. “They’re all alone.”  
There was a beat of silence as Dodger looked at him, confused as to why he even cared. He sighed and began singing again, a bit softer this time.  
“Their hand was shaking as they threatened me. They didn’t know what to do. Tell me just what you’d want me to do if the one alone was you.” He looked at her solemnly.  
“Mark…” she set a hand on his shoulder, the music of the moment gone completely.  
“I just...I don’t know. They seem so afraid. I’d hate to leave them alone after they spared my life. It would have been safer for them to just kill me.” He looked at the bodies on the ground. “I know they can take care of themselves, but…”  
“Hey, um, it’s okay.” Dodger rested a hand on his shoulder. “You don’t have to justify your kindness. I didn’t mean to be a bitch about it. It’s just…”  
“I know.” Kindness was dangerous these days.  
Your POV  
“Does that clear things up?” Enis asked rather cheerfully.  
“Uh...yeah, sure,” you responded absently. For the past few minutes, Enis had been explaining his “vegan diet” to you. From what you understood, it mostly consisted of ripping the faces off of whatever--or whoever--he planned on eating. Now, you’d never been particularly familiar with vegan lifestyles, but you were fairly certain that his definition of “vegan” was a little off. You had honestly tuned out most of what he said, instead trying to hear what was being said between Mark and Dodger in the other room. It was pretty obvious that you were what they were discussing. Unfortunately, other than a few murmurs, the only thing you were able to make out was Mark’s angry voice, saying, “They’re all alone.” It didn't take a genius to figure out who they were talking about. God, you hoped they weren’t just letting you tag along out of pity. Pity was an emotion that didn’t have any place in Monster Gulch; all it would do was get people killed. You felt bile rise in your throat, and it had (almost) nothing to do with Enis’s “vegan” diet.  
They came back out a minute or so after Mark’s outburst. Mark sat beside you, but Dodger just leaned against the doorframe.  
“So, (Y/N),” she said, “Tell us about yourself.”  
“Well,” you began, measuring your words carefully, “Before...all this--” You gesture broadly to indicate that you are referring to the general shittiness of life. “--I was an engineer.”  
“You have to be fucking kidding me,” you heard Mark mutter beside you.  
“What?” You raised an eyebrow.  
“Please tell me you were a biomedical engineer,” Dodger said eagerly.  
“Uh, no. I was a civil engineer. I was partially responsible for designing urban and rural areas in ways that minimized crime and kept traffic flowing smoothly.”  
“Oh.” She sounded slightly disappointed, but perked up quickly. “Well, you’re still an engineer. Unlike Mark, here.”  
“Was an engineer,” You correct. You didn’t say anything for a moment. “Why doesn’t it matter that he wasn’t an engineer? Most people don’t have engineering degrees.”  
“Yeah, but Mark could’ve been an engineer. Isn’t that right, Mark?”  
His response was flipping her off. With both hands.  
You exchanged a glance with Enis, who seemed to understand what they were talking about. “Am I missing something, or…?”  
“I was in college to become an engineer, but I dropped out,” Mark explained with a sigh. “I ended up making my career on YouTube.” He chuckled bitterly. “I was pretty popular, believe it or not. Not that it mattered, in the end.”  
“Wait.” You realized something. “Was your channel name Markiplier?”  
“Yeah, actually.” He gave a small smile. “Were you a fan?”  
You shrugged. “I liked watching your horror Let’s Plays.” You laughed a bit despite yourself. “Which is kind of ironic, now that I think about it. It feels like that was forever ago.”  
No one really has anything to say to that.  
Dodger clears her throat. “All due respect, but you were an engineer in another lifetime. I think we’ve all become different people since everything happened. So, who are you now?”  
You think about your response for a moment. “I like to think that I’m still the same person I was before.” Your voice became strained and you felt something burn behind your eyes. “I’ve sacrificed a lot to keep my humanity.” There was quiet for a moment. Finally, you cleared your throat. “I’d hate to tell you guys everything about me up front. It would kill the mystery, y’know?” You forced a smirk. “Now, I have a question for you guys.”  
“Ask away!” Enis said with a grin.  
You pulled up the bottom of your shirt, revealing your duct-taped wound. Not even Enis kept up his smile.  
“Do you guys have any medical supplies?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lmao I put too much work into this  
> I decided that, since I literally just started this fic, I'd update twice today to give y'all a better idea of what this fic is about.  
> Do you guys actually care for me to record the songs on SoundCloud? Or would you prefer to just imagine what you'd want the songs to be? PLEASE let me know in the comments. I don't want to waste my time more than necessary XD  
> I love you all, so please take good care of yourself!


	4. Don't Try This at Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Every medical code ever is broken.  
> Kazoos are played. 
> 
> POTENTIAL TRIGGERS:  
> Makeshift medical attention, mentions of potential death by infection, fairly graphic descriptions of pain and wounds

Your POV  
“Shit, (Y/N)...” Mark’s brow furrowed, moving so that he was on his knees facing you. His fingers gently brushed yours as he pulled up your shirt himself to get a better view of the blood-caked skin of your stomach and your duct-taped wound. “There’d better not be a bullet wound or something under that tape.”  
“Well, it’s not a bullet wound…” You wince as he peels back the tape as gently as he can. You can feel it reopening the wound.  
He let fly some obscenities you wouldn’t dare repeat upon seeing the cut on your side. “Why didn’t you mention this sooner?”  
You shrugged weakly. “What was I supposed to say? ‘Hi, I know I just held a gun to your head and I know you probably don’t even trust me yet, but I got stabbed in the side with a dirty knife and I’d really appreciate it if you’d waste your supplies on me even though I’m probably dead, anyway.’”  
“You’re not gonna die,” he growled. “We can fix this. Dodger, could you toss me your backpack? We kept the meds in there, right?”  
“I gotcha.” She tossed him her bag and he immediately started digging through it.  
Enis pulled out a small book. “I think the Book probably has something on--”  
“NO,” Mark yelled, stopping his search for a moment. You jumped slightly. “PUT THAT FUCKING THING AWAY AND DON’T GET IT OUT AGAIN.” He turned towards you, his voice soft again. “Sorry about that.”  
“I take it you don’t think that book can help, then?” You crack a nervous smile.  
He resumed his search. “Not if you want to live, no.”  
“Oh.” Your mouth suddenly felt very dry.  
There was a moment of quiet before his hands stilled again. “God, I’m such an idiot. I don’t even know what I’m looking for until I know how bad the wound is.” His hands hesitated millimeters away from the open wound on the side of your abdomen. “I...I know this isn’t ideal, but...I need to know how deep the wound was, if there’s internal damage...do you mind if I…?”  
You grimaced, but nodded. Your voice didn’t work at first because of how dry your mouth and throat had become. “Yeah.”  
He adjusted himself so that he was kneeling with a leg on either side of your outstretched legs. His fingers brushed the skin of your wound, sending a shudder of pain through you. A nervous chuckle escaped his lips. “I really wish I could clean my hands or something.”  
You groaned. “Just get it over with. It’s not like it’s gonna get more infected. We need to get this closed soon. I’m bleeding even worse than I originally was after ripping off that tape.”  
“Right.” He swallowed, hard. Finally, he pulled apart your torn flesh, exposing the depth of your wound. You bit your tongue to keep from whimpering. You’d gotten kind of used to the constant, throbbing pain, but reopening the wound and pulling your attention to it made it absolutely excruciating. You tried your best to block out the experience of him poking his fingers inside of your wound. After what felt like forever, you heard him sigh.  
“What’s the damage, doc?” you tried to joke.  
He pulls back, wiping his forehead with the back of his now-bloodied hands. Most of the blood is on the pads of his hands and in his fingernails. “It actually doesn’t look too bad. I mean, it’s not super deep, and it doesn’t look like any of your vital organs are damaged. We’ve gotta do something about this bleeding, though. And we need to do something to prevent infection.”  
“You have any liquor?” you ask through gritted teeth.  
Enis cocked his head. “Um, shots might help the pain a bit, but I really don't think it would do anything to help infection…”  
You opened your mouth to explain, but Dodger spoke up before you could. “Alcohol can help sterilize wounds, you inbred.”  
Enis turned slightly red. “Right.”  
“To answer your question, no.” Mark scratched the back of his head. “We did, but we used it as a Molotov.”  
“Of course.” You ran your tongue over your chapped lips. “Well...I guess we can just rinse it with a bit of water or something. I probably won't live long enough to die of infection, anyway.” You laughed dryly.  
“Don't say that.” Mark bit his lip. “Look, the wound itself isn't too bad. We’ll have to do something about the infection long term, like, find some antibiotics...or...something…” he ran a hand through his hair, seemingly having forgotten the blood on his hands. “I did find a sewing kit in our bag, though.” He pulled out said sewing kit and turned to face Dodger. “Would you mind…?”  
“Actually, I would.” She crinkled her nose in distaste. “You're the one who wanted to help her. So, do it.”  
“Right.” He turned back to you, his face slightly pale. “Right,” he repeated, quieter this time. He cleared his throat, took out a needle, and threaded it.  
“Wait just a minute…” You took off the bandana you wore around your neck and wadded it into a ball, then shoved the ball into your mouth. You weren't about to scream and alert every monster within a mile to your presence. These people were clearly just tolerating your presence as it was. You gave an exaggerated thumbs-up to let Mark know you were ready.  
He inhaled sharply. “Here goes nothing, I guess.” With that, he began stitching your wound shut. You clamped down on your bandana until your jaw hurt almost enough for you to focus on that instead of what was happening to you. Almost. You stared at the ceiling, tears blurring your vision. The tugging sensation of string pulling your torn pieces of flesh together was almost too much for you, but you didn't allow yourself to make any noise, save a few whimpers. God, this was violating so many health care protocols…  
That train of thought wouldn't lead you anywhere good. Maybe it was better to focus on the pain. There was plenty of it to focus on. It wasn't too hard.  
“There,” Mark said after what felt like forever, rocking back onto his heels. “It's not pretty, but it should stop the bleeding.” You nodded feebly, the pain subsiding to a steady ache.  
“Thanks,” you managed.  
“You're welcome.” He stood up and held a hand out to help you as well.  
“I, ah, think I'm gonna just rest here for a few.” You squeezed your eyes shut like that would block out the pain. You forced a smirk. “Sorry, I promise I'm normally not this useless.”  
“Useless?” Dodger speaks up, surprising you. “You took out two raiders on your own. That's a far cry from useless. If you hadn't dealt with them, we would've had to.”  
You opened your eyes and looked at her appraisingly. “Thanks.”  
She shrugged. “I give credit where it's due.”  
You smiled a bit more sincerely. “Fair enough.” There was a long moment of what felt to you like comfortable silence, which seemed strange given your looming death from infection and Dodger’s obvious dislike of you.  
“I know something that might brighten the mood!” Enis said suddenly, pulling something from his pocket.  
Mark groaned. “Enis, I swear, if that's another damn kazoo—”  
He was interrupted by Enis kazoo-ing a familiar, horrible tune. ( https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=-Sb1GtrajwQ )  
Dodger grabbed his kazoo and snapped it in half. “Where did you even learn that song?”  
“What are you talking about?” Enis asked, seemingly ignorant about what he was playing.  
Mark groaned. “Where do you keep getting kazoos?”  
“That's my secret!” Enis giggled and pulled out another kazoo, playing away on it.  
It was going to be a long night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late and short chapter! I...well, I kind of forgot what day of the week it was. I'm going to be in NYC next week, but I'll try my best to update anyway. I've honestly been SO busy finalizing things about graduation and my college plans...hopefully, I'll be able to continue updating regularly. We'll see, I guess!  
> As always, if you have any thoughts, suggestions, corrections, or requests, please let me know in the comments! I respond to every comment I get and I love to read them. Remember, I love all of you, so take good care of yourself!

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! I hope you enjoy this shitstorm as much as I enjoy writing it. It's a little bit serious at the moment since there's some heavy shit going on and all that jazz, but as everyone gets more acquainted with each other things will start to be a bit more loose and funny. I already have some High Quality Memes™ all planned out and SO MANY PUNS. There will also be some songs in the future! I'm pretty hyped about them.  
> Anyway. If you like this, please leave kudos and comment! I love to take suggestions and I'm open to writing one-shots on request. I love you all, so take care of yourself!


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